The Gift
by nefariousangel842
Summary: Lux Schreave can't wait for her Selection. She hopes she'll find true love, but sometimes you run into a few bumps before you find what you want. With protests against the monarchy, her synesthesia, and pressure from boys, she must realize there is more in her life than just her.


_PROLOGUE_

"Oh, America, she's beautiful. She looks just like… none of us." A short laugh rings out, and I gurgle. It sounds so pretty, like what the angels can sing. I hear a little gasp as I hear a higher voice chime in.

"You and America have good genes together." I can tell the… whatever holding me is blushing and embarrassed, because she, or he, rocks me faster and the thing's arms get, ever so slightly, warmer.

"Marlee! Why do you have to tease America? You're going to have a baby soon too..." A chuckle, that's what I'd like to name it, came from the lady, I guessed, who was holding me.

"Everyone, I'd like to nominate the name Lux. Or maybe something exotic, like Ranya or Iceu! Iceu has a nice ring to it, but Lux sounds more royal-ishie." I heard a high female voice laugh, the sound soft and delicate.

"Lux is a nice name, very royal, but it still sounds pretty. I kind of like Petra, but that would suit someone that was like Maxon, but with blue eyes." I felt rough but still comforting arms cradle me, and there is a little bit of fuzz on the arms. I think that's what those are called. The fuzzy things were quite funny, so I grabbed a fistful and yanked.

His eyes widened and he yelled out loudly, and it seemed to hurt him. His arm jerked up and he made a loud noise coming from above me, I think.

A little laugh rang out. "Lux it is, then. I think Maxon should agree now, because I think our sweet little one likes that."

"Penny? Do you know where my colored pencils are?" I said as I chewed on the rubbery pink eraser of my pencil. I liked the word pencil. It was not actually yellow, but a deep green with specks of orange. As I thought about it, a huge puff of my brain's pencil color puffed in a square cloud in front of my face. I've watched a video about this, and it explained that it was unique, or a gift.

I think it's a curse.

I mean, I think that it's useless, weird, and I can't ever tell ANYONE about it because they'd think I was mental or something! Don't the people have to respect me? I'm a princess! I don't want all this power, it's stressful. I don't want all this luxury because it feels as if I'm taking something away from the poor people in Illéa. This thing I have… synesthesia. It sounds so evil, and it's a deep mahogany with those little, wispy, annoying yellow flecks... Blech.

Penny comes back with my colored pencil box, and I glance it at and see the familiar rolling hills on the tin cover. I've practically memorized that image, and the Prismacolor label. As the name says, it's even _colored_ bright red with blue and green stripes.

Well, at least in my head.

I don't like to digitally paint because of the splotch-like surface and the difficult brushes… I prefer colored pencils because they don't smudge, they glide across the paper like wings brushing marble, and you can sharpen them for bolder colors instead of searching and searching for the right tint, shade and color for hours. Magic.

I don't really know why I have such a passion for art, but it was probably Mom's music-loving genes. Every time she plays the piano, her fingers glide across the keyboard like they're feathers, something celestial or ethereal or something like that. I think her violin is the best, with all the smooth notes and quick beats. Her bow strokes are like magic, but when I tried violin, I was pushing the rest so hard against my chin it cracked. Yeah, congratulations to me!

A knock sounded on my door. Door is a nice word, with a grayish-green and circles of red around it. I walked over to the door, making sure my back was nice and straight, and opened the door.

"Miss Lux? Your Father wants to see you." A maid who I don't know smiles, and I can tell there's a hint of bitter behind it. I don't understand why people have been like that, holding back their bitterness. The rich people in Illéa have been quite sour about the whole removing-of-the-castes thing, probably because there are no Eights anymore. My family gave the country a new beginning, and everyone wanted it.

Except.

Except, all the former Twos and Threes, they hated the no-caste thing. They think it was ranked, more showing everyone their wealth. It's really self-absorbed, but I think they just want… power, so I'm pretty sure they don't want a monarchy. I know this because every time I go to a meeting with some rich people or something, they have a sour look on their face, and their eyes always slit in cold fury when they see Dad like snakes.

As I glide down the marble staircase to our personal 'family room,' I see my stalking, idiot little sister Quincy.

"Hi." That's all she says as she swings her thin head around the corner again. Oh crap, why did I have to have such a creep of a sister? Every single time I walk somewhere, Quincy's there. Just whips her thin head around the corner, stares at me with her beady, eight-year-old eyes, and says 'hi'. It's fascinatingly creepy, with her unbrushed strawberry blonde hair, beady blue eyes, thin pink mouth, and pretty yet sharply shaped cheeks and jutting cheekbones. Her voice is high, with undertones when she ends a sentence.

I walk into the 'family room', and look to Dad's face. His eyes are wrinkled around the edges, and when he smiles, but looks like it could melt off at any moment.

"Lux, honey. How have you been these past few days?" He asked, yet it sounded forced, tired, and the bottom of his chapped lips breaks open a little. He doesn't notice, probably from lack of sleep.

"Dad, I'm fine. How are you, is the question." I feel my heart melt for him, and my mind flashes to see him hunched over his deck, papers spread everywhere. A thing that oozes off him is his care to look his best everyday, to try and not let our people see what hurt him. We've been donating a lot of our money to spread it all out to the former Eights and some lowly Sevens, and have adapted Miss Marlee's son's idea to build tiny huts for the former caste members of Seven and Eight. Most Eights went into custody, if they were worse than the rest.

"I'm all good, Bug. Your mother actually has a question for you. She's quite excited about it, and I am too. After all, it's how I met your mother." My pulse quickened, and I knew what was coming next. "Your mom and I are wondering if you want a Selection."

Oh. My. Lord. FINALLY! I can't wait to meet all of these boys, and they must be handsome and kind too! I bet they're all muscular, and Mom already has the perfect boys picked out...–

"But Lux, we have to prepare for about two weeks if it's a yes." This is simply agonizing, the wait.

"YES DAD! Thank you thank you thank you! I've been waiting so long for this…" I hugged him and smiled so widely I must have pulled a muscle or something. I think it's just as difficult to live a life without love than live a life without art. Love is all wonderful, and it's so easy to like someone! Love is easy, it's just another accessory to life, but it's wonderful. The chase to the one you love, the heat when you're together, and the relief when you're away from the once-nice one.

But how would I know?

 _One Week Later…_

God! I can't believe a Selection takes up this much work… I mean, designing the rooms is horrible enough. But checking all the envelopes, making sure the castle is crystal-clean, and finding a dress and hairstyle to go together each day? It was my own idea… but still. I loved designing the outfits, but the room designing? It was evil to extents. I can't believe it actually takes this much!

"Lux? Hello?" Mom popped in my room. She smiled, and hugged me. "Congratulations! Can't wait for you to find love, if you do." She winks and squeezes my shoulders. Hug isn't a very pretty word, but it's warm and gushy. A light pink, but sunken in a deep, orangey-orange.

Like sunset.

I ran my hand through my burgundy hair, and didn't encounter any knots.

"Are you excited? Scared? I was so surprised when I was chosen." Mom seemed so excited for my Selection, and was smiling cheek to cheek. Well, everybody already smiles from cheek to cheek, but Mom looked happier.

"Miss? Here's the final layout for the boys' rooms. Would you like to make any changes?" Penny walks in, and hands me an intricate-looking paper. I furrowed my brow, and tried to sift through the confusing paper.

"Um, can we remove the chair in the corner? Can we have a mahogany desk to the right of the balcony, and a green plush rolling chair for it?" Penny nods and scuttles away. Scuttles is a good word for Penny because they contrast well in color. Penny is a circular pine green with wavy faint yellow stripes pu

shing through, while scuttles is also a pine green but with orange lining the edges and shaped like a donut with a red center.

Mom smiles and runs her hand through a bit of my hair, and pulls out the small knot I couldn't find.

"Lux, I wish you could see you from my eyes. You're so special to me, to _us._ I hope you can see as much love we have for you in your chosen husband." Mom kisses my forehead and whispers

"I wish…"

"You wish what mom?" I say.

"I wish your grandfather were here to see you. " Mom smiles and hugs me tight. "He would tell you to choose from your heart. That is how you will find your true love" She froze, definitely having a flashback.

"Mom?"

"Yes?" she said life coming to her face.

"Tell me the story of you and dad."

Her face lit up, and the rose color that had steadily been creeping up her cheeks increased. Her eyes glazed over, and she smiled to herself.

"Mom?" She snapped out and nodded, and began her story.

"When the castes still existed, my family was all Fives. I had four siblings, one which ran off to marry a higher caste. _Kota_ … He was ambitious, which I admired, but God, was he greedy. Now I wonder about him. He was such a greedy little snake…" Her voice tipped off, and after a couple seconds, told me her story. It was a tale that could become famous, that should be written in a book and remembered. Yet there were already books about their love, and the troubles and all that they went through, but none had all the tiny details Mom had told me about. How Maxon had 'cheated' on her once by kissing Celeste, how Kriss was part of the Northern Rebels, and how she had seen Celeste crying, saying it would make her seem weak.

"That's the end, why don't you go and get some rest before tomorrow?" My mother smiled, and smoothed my hair back before kissing my forehead. "You have a huge ceremony, choosing all of the boys to be your Selected. I grinned at the thought, and imagined what they would all look like and how they would act. I left the room, went to mine, and fell asleep on my bed, giddy for the next day.


End file.
